The Colour Grey
by Kristin03
Summary: And so the war had come and gone. Voldemort was dead; Harry Potter was dead; and a great many others had gone with them. Can Hermoine get over her hatred of Malfoy to finish her seventh year? Or will her own prejudice destroy any chance of moving on?


Hey guys! This is my first story on any fan fiction site. I'd really appreciate it if people would review. Hopefully nice constructive criticism, but it doesn't have to be. If you hate it; tell me you hate it, but also tell my why so that I can improve. Just 'I hate it, you suck's" are not welcome. But other than that please, please review!!

Prologue: Head Duties

Hermoine Granger walked slightly behind Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts new Head Boy, in a seething rage. How dare they?! How dare McGonagall expect her, Head Girl, to be okay with this? After everything that happened last year and over the summer, she could not fathom them even letting that smarmy git back into Hogwarts. Never mind putting him in a position of power over the other students, especially Muggleborns. It was absurd; unthinkable! Not to mention dangerous to all involved. And McGonagall, whom Hermoine had always looked up to and respected, had basically told her that her opinion on the matter was moot. That she had to work closely – live closely – with him all year.

No one had even raised an objection. Had the whole wizarding world gone mad? This boy had done everything in his power to make her life and the lives of every other muggleborn in the school completely miserable for six long years. Last year he had let Death Eaters into the school which had caused irreparable damage and pain. Pain to herself and the people that she cared about. How did McGonagall expect her to work, live and share a common room with him alone all year, and feel safe doing it. Because certainly he was only biding his time before he betrayed them all. It was so glaringly obvious to her. How could no one else see it?

Hermoine had spent a great deal of time thinking in the past three weeks since the war had ended. About life, about the wizarding world in general, about what the war had cost her, what she had left.

When Ron had been killed by Lucius Malfoy during a raid on the Ministry, Harry and Hermoine had been devastated. Not only because of the situation itself, though awful, but also because it was the first of their closely nit group to meet that fate.

Not to say that they hadn't been distraught when Sirius had fallen through the veil, or when Bill Weasley had been mauled, or when Dumbledore had been murdered. Of course they had. But for the first time it became glaringly apparent that they – The Golden Trio – who had been through so much were not invincible. That not all of them were going to make it through this. And though it shouldn't have been such a surprise (they were, after all, in the middle of a war) they had been… They -she- had been devastated.

The two of them had clung to each other desperately after it happened. They very nearly spoke to only each other. Of course they had _talked_ to other members of the Order but they were more 'pass the potatoes' type of interactions. For all that the others had lost people that they loved also, they couldn't understand. It is difficult to empathize with a person in grief when you cannot understand their connection to each other, or what the other party had meant to the one in grief. Or maybe that was being self-absorbed. To think that your own pain is worse than someone else's in very nearly the same situation… but grief is like that.

Not two weeks after Ron had died there was a brutal attack on Muggle relatives to try to force Order members out of hiding. Hermione's parents had been targeted, as well as several families from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and a few from Slytherin. It was a rude awakening for many Slytherin and Ravenclaw families who had chosen to remain neutral. In this war, being neutral wasn't an option. One must choose a side to support or be considered dangerous to both.

Hermoine was crushed, of course. Though strangely, not as much as she felt she should have been. She had grown apart from her Muggle family. Her parents who, although they had always encouraged her to be exceptional, had never understood her love for the magical world. She had always felt disconnected and estranged from them, though they did their best to make her feel otherwise.

The war was quick and terrible. A short five weeks later, the final battle was forged on Hogwarts grounds. Both sides had suffered terrible losses. People were made to do terrible things. The light side, who had condemned the Death Eaters for using dark magiks were found to be using the same spells. Neville Longbottom had Crucio'd Bellatrix Lestrange until she was foaming at the mouth. Seamus Finnegan had flayed Crab senior alive for killing his mother. And Hermione herself had done much worse by the time the war had ended.

When at last Harry and Voldemort had faced off in the final battle, it had been a sunny afternoon. It had seemed as though the castle itself had held its breath as everyone on both sides, Order and Death Eater, stopped to watch a piece of history. To Hermoine it had felt like forever, though in reality in may have only been mere moments. When Harry had realized that the final Horcrux was his own lightning bolt scar he had turned his wand on himself without so much as a quiver of fear. Giving his life, it seemed, had been almost expected for him; like it was supposed to happen that way.

He had looked up, eyes swiveling around to find hers as though magnetized. Hermione Granger would never in her life forget the look he had given her. It was full of grief, regret, and oddly enough relief. Not oddly… no. Not when one thought about it. For the last six years Harry had had the weight of the world on his shoulders. His sole purpose in life had been to somehow rid the world of Voldemort. But then what? When all was said and done there was very little chance of him ever being able to _do_ anything else. Voldemort had filled Harry's entire being and once he was gone, once he was finally dead… what then? Become an auror, certainly, but to what end? Could he have gotten married? Had kids? Led a normal life? She didn't think so. He could never lead a normal life simply because Harry Potter never was, and most probably never could be, a normal kid. And chances were he'd never be a normal man. Dumbledore had gone to great lengths to ensure that.

With everyone important in her life gone, Hermione was at a loss as to what to do next. She thought a great deal about leaving the wizarding world behind. Really, what did she have worth staying for? However, when she followed that line of thinking she had to admit that there was nothing for her in the Muggle world either. Walking away after everything she'd been through felt like giving up. And even after all the changes the war had made to her, she found she couldn't do it. In the end the choice was made for her, as choices often are. She had received her Hogwarts letter telling her, quite a bit too cheerfully, that she was elected the new Head Girl, and that she and the Head Boy would be expected a full two days in advance to organize their Head duties before the start of class. They were to apparate to Hogsmeade and the two Heads could meet in the library before going to the Headmistress's office for further instruction.

She had considered ignoring it. Before the war, she couldn't imagine anything that would have made her happier. However, she was not the same girl she had been before the war. It had changed her… it had changed everyone. After all, how do you go on living the same life after you have seen such horrible things; done such horrible things? How can you pretend to be the same person as before when that person is a stranger to you now?

She had always wondered how the good side always triumphed when they never seemed to compromise. As it turns out, she had been wrong and naïve about that as well. You need to become a little bit evil to be able to fight evil. And when there is no one there to draw the line, there is simply no line drawn.

And so the war had come and gone. Voldemort was dead; Harry Potter was dead; and a great many others had gone with them. The survivors perhaps had the worst of it. They had all lost so many people they cared about. Not only to death but to their own grief, and guilt, and sorrow. They were left alone to pick up the pieces of their broken lives and try to, somehow, move on.

The Ministry, of course, had constructed a massive statue of the final battle between Harry and Voldemort. Large and gaudy, it was entirely without taste. She was sure that Harry would have hated it. It made her so angry to think of the ministry using what had happened as a way to gain support. She felt as though it was a proverbial slap in the face. Harry had given his entire life to defeat Voldemort; she and Ron as well, and the Ministry had the audacity to use it as a testimony that they had won the war. Had they won? Had anyone?

Hermoine sighed as she followed Malfoy to the Heads' common room. Only seven students in her entire year had lived to see the end of the war. Seven out of fifty had been left standing. And only she and Neville from Gryffindor.

She continued to glare holes in the back of Malfoy's head as they continued along, the now familiar word 'hate' rolling around in her brain like a constant presence. She hated him. She hated his father. She hated the Death Eaters and Voldemort and Dumbledore and that fact that everything good and pure had been stripped from her. She felt so angry; so bitter. And it exhausted her.

Perhaps she would have found it easier to forgive Malfoy if it hadn't been such a massacre; if the world hadn't been so crippled by the losses. Or perhaps she would have found it easier to forgive him if she herself hadn't changed so much. Into something darker and uglier inside than anyone, herself included, could have imagined.

Malfoy stated the password to the portrait that guarded the common room in his usual drawling tone and, without even a glance in her direction, ascended the stairs. Hermione huffed in annoyance but followed him inside and promptly went to bed. She just didn't have it in her to fight with him right now.

**Headmistress' Office – An hour earlier  
**

McGonagall was waiting for them in her office, flipping through scrolls and parchment in deep concentration. Hermione hadn't seen McGonagall since the end of the war and wasn't sure what to expect. She wondered if she would be the same as before or if, like herself, she had been drastically changed by the experience.

The first thing that Hermione noticed was the ink that stained her fingers and chin. Her hair was in the same tight bun it had always been in, her face was much the same and the liver spots that marred her skin were all present and accounted for. However, when McGonagall looked up she was struck by the woman's eyes. They were tired and dead. As if she had seen everything this world had to offer and had found it wanting. Hermione had felt the same way as of late. Maybe there were reasons for Malfoy being back after all, though she herself couldn't think of even one.

"Ah. Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy. Please have a seat." Putting down the parchment and quill, she gave them her full attention.

"Headmistress-" Hermione started, intent on making her displeasure for the new Head Boy known.

"Please, Miss Granger." McGonagall interrupted, "I am sure that you have many questions regarding my decision. I, however, would like to explain some things before you do." She paused, looking between the two.

"I understand, Ms. Granger, that you have… concerns regarding Mr. Malfoy becoming Head Boy or coming back to Hogwarts at all for that matter. I will say this on the subject: he has been cleared of all charges that link him to the invasion of the school last year. And if you'll recall, he did not take part in any of the battles following," clearing her throat, she made to go on but Hermione stopped her.

"With all due respect Headmistress," she said in a tone not respectful at all. "How do you consider him cleared of the charges? We all _know_ that he did it. Harry _saw_ him confess. Do you not see the danger that he poses to the students here? Muggleborns? Don't you see the danger that he poses to me?" She was all but shouting now.

"How can you risk everything we've fought for? We know his beliefs. I'm a walking testament of them. How can you be sure that he's not another Voldemort in the making? Putting him in a position of authority is immoral."

"I can hear everything that you're saying, you know?" Draco drawled. "You can stop talking about me as if I weren't here."

Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms in a pout. As soon as she realized what she was doing she quickly uncrossed her arms and bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself from pouting. She would solve nothing by acting like an impetuous child.

By the slight smirk on Malfoy's face, he had already noticed though.

"I understand your concerns, Miss Granger, and I sympathize. I can assure you that if Mr. Malfoy were a threat to the school or anyone in it, he most certainly would not be back."

Hermoine furrowed her brow, frustrated. "But Headmistress-."

McGonagall held up a hand, clearly exasperated.

"However, I will not be spoken to in such a tone." Her voice was severe and her eyes cold. "I will also not condemn a boy for trying to protect his family the only way he knows how. Now; you both will be working very closely this year and I suggest that you get over your differences."

She very nearly glared at the two of them, daring them to say more. When neither did, her expression softened somewhat, but not much.

"A description of the Head Duties awaits you in your common room. Mr. Malfoy knows the way so you may follow him there." With that she went back to sorting through the scrolls and Hermione got the distinct impression that they had been dismissed.

Thanks for reading guys. And don't forget to review!!


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